Algebra
by BlackNhite
Summary: Take an equation and add an unknown, watch how it alters the very nature of the problem. Formerly Parallels; still OC centric.
1. Parallels

_{Commentary on this story can be found on my profile page, have a look if you're curious.}_

Tsukune Aono. Age fifteen, male, Japanese, human. A high school student, perfectly average in every way, frankly rather boring. Important none the less, he has a truly grand adventure ahead of him.

Abel Delamar. Age seventeen, male, Portuguese and totally ignorant of that fact, nymph. Also a high school student, an especially lax one at that. His importance, well, that's yet to be decided.

Two figures at the same starting point, each set to forge his own path. This is the beginning…

* * *

Tsukune kept his distance, choosing a seat around the center of the bus. Just far enough from the oddities up front, but not so distant to inquire cowardice. At least he hoped as much, he'd rather not be drawn into their little comedy routine as the token "shy-guy target."

Mr. Delamar on the other hand was having a time of this little bus ride. Seated just across and slightly down the aisle from the driver's seat, he and the Bus Driver were now locked in heated battle. Neither seemed ready at all to back down, aching ribs be damned! Abel sized up his blue-suited opponent, his beady firefly eyes glowing oddly bright with smug joy. The bastard was _toying_ with him! Abel would have none of this.

Tsukune all but leapt from his seat as his fellow student belted out a roaring round of evil laughter, expelling all his reserves in one push of maniacal chuckles meant to drive his opponent into submission. Though unintentional, it did have the added effect of forcing Tsukune to cower behind his briefcase.

Alas, there would be no victory for the red-maned wonder known as Abel as the cigar-puffing Driver reared back, contorting in a bone chilling chorus of impish giggles which gradually ascended into a hymn of disjointed cackles more suited to the bastard offspring of a hyena and a dying rabbit than any being resembling a man. The display was awe-inspiring at best.

For the two youths, it jumped directly into nightmare fuel territory.

Mr. Delamar collected his baggage, consisting of a single, green duffle bag, and slowly etched his way out of his seat. He moved with utmost caution, etching his way back through the aisle, his eyes not once veering from the now winded Driver. He pressed against Tsukune's seat, the terrified boy scooting slightly to the side to allow his fellow refugee entrance. Abel slid into place, adopting Tsukune's established stance of hiding completely behind the seat in front of him, away from the prying sight of that… _thing_ at the front of the bus.

The world went dark; they were going through a tunnel. Rational thinking or not, the sudden loss of light gave the two a major spook. The Bus Driver directly addressing them didn't help at all.

"So, you boys are going to Youkai?"

* * *

"Good luck boys," were the ominous man's parting words before his portal of evil snapped shut and his rolling box of hell on wheels turned back into the tunnel.

Tsukune was shaking in his poorly polished shoes at the scene that played out before him. Why was he suddenly by the ocean; the tunnel surely hadn't felt that long when they went through it, so what the hell was going on? Did the laws of physics case to exist upon the entrance to said tunnel? Was this odd, autumnal landscape of skeletal trees and scattered graves some alternate dimension not bound by the laws of space and time? What _is_ the Twilight Zone?

The suddenly abstract Aono sought to share his intellectual dilemma with his fellow traveler, turning around only to find nothing in his place. Frantic, desperate for some form of companionship in this alien world, Tsukune's head twisted to and fro in search of his fire-forged friend.

Abel had a time of watching this for about a second before returning to the thing which had caught his interest. A sign post, which to his delight also functioned as a scarecrow for no other reason than setting mood, had been haphazardly chopped to the ground. He was now busily crouched over the debris, reading the smudged message.

_Youkai Academy, straight ahead._

Unfortunately the sign was now pointing in the wrong direction, the chipped wood carved into the design of a pointed finger directing the reader clear off the cliff face. Abel briefly entertained the idea of further freaking out his impromptu comrade by waltzing off the side of the sheer drop but, remembering that the sea lay below and that he had a real aversion to large bodies of water, thought better to restrain his antics.

As Abel picked himself up, Tsukune caught sight of his shock of red hair, practically radiant in the receding sunlight. The scrappy youth called out gratefully as he shuffled over to regroup with the only other being in existence as it were, his blind air of relief covering up the natural instinct his body was desperately trying to communicate so he would move out of the fricken way.

No dice there as yet another person chose right then to pop into being, ironically also manifesting a pink basket bicycle racing out of control and directly into a formerly joyful Tsukune. Action begets reaction, injury begets pain, the ensuing incident was simply a paragon of cause and effect. Mr. Delamar would have applauded the exhibition if he'd had the time; hunger was a-calling and this line didn't believe in answering machines.

Tsukune would be fine on his own; not that Abel particularly cared, more that it was simple fact. He'd just made the most important, and painful, first impression of his once perfectly average life. Indeed, for a time, the flower-maned Abel would pass from the young human's thoughts as merely another face in a sea of identical noses, ears, and eyes.

Two lines running at parallels...


	2. Rays

**Rays**

Directions or not, you'd have to be an idiot to have missed the place. Even with the dead forest stretching out beyond the grounds, this place towered over the tree line… with literal towers at that! The design would have been quite Pilgrim-esque if not for the atmosphere of "spooky" that hung around the place, regulating it to a Scooby-Doo hot-spot. Really, blue? Could they be any drearier?

But Abel's mind did not linger long on such notions, as it often want to do. Within the span of the next ten seconds, it would jump between such topics as his ever-present hunger, the shiny reflection on the floor, the fact that that guy he passed just farted, then back onto hunger which really wanted to keep its spot on the pedestal of thought.

Abel mused on the heat in the place, popping every button from his white T and gracing the world with his modest set of abs. For a downer on the outside, the staff around here certainly went all out with the interior; two floors of classrooms, fresh paint and polish, the wooden banisters along every staircase. This place was its own little work of art, buried treasure in a rotting chest. Hell, they had gargoyles lining the top-level railing; that was fricken awesome!

Moving along though, the easily distracted Delamar took immediate notice of the scent of hot meal lurking through the grand corridor. He sniffed the air like some enthused blood hound, receiving quite the look from a chesty lass with locks of sapphire… no, she'd leave this one alone for a while. Unnoticing, and frankly uncaring, Abel whooshed by, darting towards the tempting aroma.

An inlet cut into the left side of the hallway. Abel made a bee-line for the carved entryway, clearing it with a leap of astounding triumph! Oh yes, this got him some attention, but that was beside the point! Truths were truths and the inevitable was inevitable; beneath burning fluorescents and ceiling tiles, perched atop steel-bar racks themselves set almost afloat upon the checker-pattern floor, sat the physical representation of lust!

Abel Delamar had found the cafeteria… and they had a fruit stand!

* * *

"Yukari Sendou?"

"Present," was the vibrant reply from one apply named Yukari Sendou, the resident loli of Class D. At the head of the room, the bulky figure in the forest-themed sweater-vest and aviator goggles crossed off another name on his list. The class remained relatively subdued following their instructor's entrance speech, only the childish witch left untouched of livelihood. If only school could be this exciting for all its students.

At that moment, the classroom door swung open in casual fashion, a striking figure of average height, build, and totally un-average hair stepping through the threshold. He paused in wonder before the imposing figure of a man staring daggers, big ones, into him. Abel would admit to being intimidated, but world be damned if he showed it.

Instead of the typical display of cowardice, Abel presented before this man exactly one half of a pomegranate he'd pocketed from the food court. The perplexed professor shifted glances rapidly from Abel's face to the sweating fruit, now leaking ick all over the tardy student's hands. Abel decided now was good a time as any to elaborate.

"You see, there's an art to properly eating a pomegranate, it takes time, you know? You have to be patient, observant, and overall precise when dealing with such an endeavor. One wrong step could prove costly to the experience. Of course, given that, you can understand why I took my time in getting here. And even then, my task is barely half-way through, my mission… incomplete."

The instructor's face dropped from one of righteous fury to one of stony annoyance. The scene was almost comical, as though Mr. Delamar were reciting that iconic piece of Shakespearian literature in which the man holds a skull outstretched in his palm, only Abel was offering a dissected fruit to a human-esque statue.

"Will that be all?" Abel nodded the affirmative. "Find a seat, Mr…?"

"Delamar, Abel Delamar," said said figure who accentuated his entrance with a loud belch that raised a wave of sounds equal parts amused and disgusted from his fellow classmates. He mused on the option of a dramatic bow, but decided he'd done enough damage for one day and would leave this lot in peace.

He glided past a group of three, tightly-knit gentlemen, each of whom shot him a look of trepidation laced in morbid warning, slid in behind the chair of a hunched kid with a shock of teal set atop his head, and finally found solace near the back in a seat beside a tiny figure decked out in a mauve girdle and pointed hat.

The inquisitive Mr. Delamar gave his neighbor the usual once over, an act which clearly freaked her right out, before again setting his head straight. Only now that head was adorned with a shit-eating grin and softly spoke, _"Nice…"_ in a way most unsettling to the young witch. Yukari swiftly raised her hand.

"Mr. Baptiste!"

"Please," called the plump man at the head of the room, "that's far too conventional, Baptiste the Butcher will do me just fine, didn't I already go over this?"

Before she could continue to voice her grievance, Abel abruptly shot into a stand, arms stretched out towards the newly titled "Baptiste the Butcher."

"I respect you. Just thought I'd throw that out there. It was shaky at first, but I want you to know… that you have my utmost favor." Abel spoke with a kind of hard passion, full of life yet set in stone.

And Baptiste would respond with, "You're trying to one-up me, aren't you?"

And at that, Abel readily nodded. In answer, Baptiste the Butcher raised a meaty palm, clenching it into a hardened fist. The entire class heard clearly the snapping of chalk as well as the even more audile crack of bones.

Abel froze up for an instant, then slowly reclined back into his seat-desk. He kept constant care not to blink throughout the procedure, lest he insult his opponent, until the great Butcher again turned to address the black board.

Two loses in one day, his ego was going straight down the toilet.

* * *

Class ended shortly after, the first years earning the entire student body a day of free time so that they could get oriented. Those upper classmen really ought to show some appreciation towards their naive juniors.

It seemed Yukari Sendou was poised to be on the receiving end of such gratitude as she was snatched up and surrounded by the three tight-knits from class. Abel paused his exit, lingering for a moment; more than long enough to register a few threats and tossed insults towards the petite girl. A very complicated thought process arose from the bowels of Abel's mind, an occasional visitor to the conscious brain when shit really needed to be thought through.

Noticing his presence, Yukari cast a glance at her aloof classmate, staring helplessly through the shifting mob of legs around her. Abel caught her eyes, scared and pleading, and turned to continue on his way. This wasn't his turf, no need to start unnecessary shit. And besides, girl had a lesson to learn if she still had that innocence in her eyes and wanted to act mature.

There are no more heroes.

* * *

Tsukune had lived in a good environment, that pseudo realm that lay between urban and suburban, in a quite little house with his quiet little family. And so, it was understandable that the conditions of the structure before him that would come to serve as his new domicile were… less than desirable, so to say. At least, that's the way he saw things.

"What a wonderful space, it has such character."

Tsukune was, to say the least, floored by the observations of his pink-haired escort. Were they looking at the same reality or was hers just painted a little more in flowers and unicorns? Maybe he was the one who needed his eyes checked, the idea that such a beauty could be so gone in her tastes was simply beyond the optimistic mind of one Tsukune Aono.

"Oh, you don't like it Tsukune? You're making such a face…"

The roused boy quickly checked himself back into an air of content, reminding himself that he was, in truth, beyond a reasonable doubt, spending the day with the school beauty, Moka Akashiya. He could not fail his first impression, this was vital to his future as a man!

Tsukune steeled himself, ready to force a response, when his patch-work revere was broken by an elbow to the side that sent him sprawling forward. Conveniently, his new friend's cleavage was present to stop his fall.

Unhindered by the rough contact, Abel headed up towards his dorm, eager to set up shop and not have to carry around all this shit in his bag. For some reason, his mood had gone straight south and nothing would perk him up more than a long night's sleep. To hell with the sun, what did it know of a man's needs? It could shine twilight for eternity for all he cared, this young man was getting his rest.

* * *

So much for that time of respite. Abel had forgotten just how bad a sense of direction he had, specifically when he had to dodge certain hallways to steer clear of whatever ass-hattery the local inmates felt the need to commit that he'd rather not get dragged into. As it were, he came to notice that, like the main building, this place was a lot nicer on the inside. What was at best the equivalent of a New York slum-house on the outside was a presentable dorm-house within, well-lit and, again, freshly painted and polished.

So yeah, admiring the architecture had been distracting for the first three minutes or so, up until the realization hit that every floor here was the same and equally populated with wanna-be frat boys, that itself a hideous idea, who hindered Abel's passage at every twist and turn. Fed up, Delamar opted to simply blow past the next group and see where that got him. It ended up getting him a head of silly-string, making him now resemble a flower with spider-web attachment, but ultimately this move proved worth the collateral as Abel spied his room number just ahead.

And one more thing, he also spied the familiar face of his old acquaintance from the bus ride this afternoon. But there was something off about him, something new about his formerly unremarkable visage. Abel pointed out, quite blatantly in his mind and almost with his inquisitory finger, the rather suggestively shaped patch of red all but pulsing against his right cheek.

Tsukune had spied Abel as well during his approach. He stared at the human-flower, the human-flower stared right back. Not a word was shared and Tsukune's face was an eerie mirror of Abel's own platonic countenance. Abel dropped his duffle…

He then quickly zipped it open and began to rifle through what was apparently quite the extensive collection of junk, or treasure as Abel would place it, his face set in that cartoon expression of concentration where one's tongue hangs out the side of their mouth. But then, eureka; he'd found his prize!

Abel produced from his duffle an ice pack, full of mysteriously un-melted ice. He then strode up and offered it to Tsukune, in the sense that pressing something strikingly chilly against one's face is considered "offering."

"_Poor Boobie,_" cooed the disturbed persona that is Motherly Delamar, "now you just head on to bed and keep that pack in place, otherwise you'll be stuck with the swelling, you hear?"

A placid Aono slipped his palm over the pack, shrugging off Abel's now unneeded pressure, and turned one-eighty to retire to his room. Tsukune's day was thoroughly wasted and he'd like nothing more than to fly flat-faced into his mattress and let some adolescent fever dream of wet spots and grinding bodies take over from the stream of stress that plagued his mind currently.

Likewise, Abel too departed into the room inscribed as "66," snapping the door shut behind him. He would not be out at all the remainder of that day and none saw fit to bother him as such. Things stayed quiet for Abel Delamar tonight, a luxury he wouldn't long be privy to.


	3. Parabola

**Parabola**

It was unfortunate that Tsukune had never been blessed with the experience of siblings, young or old, to share one household. Sure, on occasion his cousin Kyoko would spare a visit or two, but it simply wasn't enough. One cannot cultivate that particular mindset on random intervals of incident; one needs constant exposure to said lifestyle before the philosophy truly sinks in.

First come, first serve.

Tsukune dismally regretted his lack of practice with this ideology, now twenty-seventh in a line of forty-two awaiting access to the showers. As if that wasn't bad enough, some, and of course by some we mean many, of the dorm inhabitants were apparently livid sleepers, swapping back to their default forms during the night and now too groggy to realize or give a shit about resuming human shape. Tsukune too suffered from morning-fog, though it was nothing one couldn't get over when faced with a bishonen's head dangling from the ridiculous length of his own neck.

Maybe he should just skip the shower, he was awake enough as it was.

Abel chose then to appear from his quarters, a layer of mist wafting out behind him. The line of boys stared, stupefied at his fresh appearance, his features at the pinnacle of cleanliness and his hair perfectly aligned into his petal-shaped mane. Shrugging he strap of his now much lighter duffle over his shoulder, Abel noticed the unwanted attention. Perplexed, he merely held their gaze.

The doors to the shower room snapped open, a lean male with a red band in his hair striding out in naught but the towel wrapped about his waist. Not a soul made a move for the unoccupied space, Tsukune had glanced up and down the line twice just to be sure. No mad dash, no foe-tossing charge, not even a stubbed toe or two; they were all absolutely stunned.

Taking his chance, Secret Agent Aono moved in low, below their line of sight, and with a swiftness never before possessed by the teenager. Abel's eyes tracked his stealthy maneuver all the way to the steam-spouting portal where Tsukune then leapt the remaining distance, sliding across the moist tiles and clasping the door shut behind him. Abel nodded his approval before returning to his domicile, wondering if he'd forgotten to wear pants again.

Well, it would explain the stares at least.

* * *

Sun rained down as Tsukune Aono broke free of the labyrinth known as the Boy's Dormitory. He'd just made the early crowd thanks to Abel's distraction; an unplanned phenomenon but hey, take what you can right? Young Aono breathed deeply, ready to start his day good and fresh, when the most peculiar sight befell his eyes.

Moka Akashiya, the girl he'd practically assaulted just yesterday, though not of his own design, was making her way towards him. Correction, she was rapidly making her way towards him. Second correction, she was on a collision course!

Tsukune would have to toughen up that body of his if he was going to survive three years with this girl, though the contact didn't bother him so much. The inevitable plummet to the ground was a different story though and one that was not likely to change anytime soon.

"Ne, good morning Tsukune," she delivered with her ever-present cheer, perched merrily atop her breakfast's pumping chest.

The boy rose a bit, the girl over his heart now became the girl in his lap. Cue morning wood… no? Well, lucky bastard that one.

Still, the position was as compromising as it gets and with all the guys now leaking from the packed dorms, along with an understandable anger towards the resident "shower-snatcher," Tsukune was heading right for a world of shit.

"Uh, M-M-M-Moka…"

"Hmm, that scent, I really can't resist…"

Ever taken a needle to the neck? Tsukune sure hadn't up until yesterday, and he sure as hell wasn't in the spirit to think back on the sensation, let alone have it happen again. Sadly, his good friend Moka was a vampire, one who had taken a particular liking to his personal plasma. Between his state of high anxiety and her state of predatory trance, there was no avoiding this.

"Ow!"

And for the mob of disguised youkai males gathered about the scene, there was no denying the sight of Moka giving Tsukune a hickey.

Oh yeah, it was on like Donkey Kong.

* * *

Abel had arrived early, missing even the rising sun crowd. He'd plopped into his same desk from yesterday, slapping his green duffle on the table in front of him. Zipping it back, he produced his most precious item of the day, a bunch of ripe bananas, moist and gooey to the touch. Oh yes, breakfast was going to be a real treat today.

But before he could indulge himself, the door again slid open revealing a rather familiar diminutive figure. Barring the pointed hat this time, Yukari Sendou slumped into the room, manning the universal stance of defeat. Hunched shoulders, downcast face, draping hair, limp arms; the tell-tale signs of submission. Her head rose slightly, miming out a glance across the room, towards the frozen form of Abel. Yukari turned away, stumbling into the nearest seat and claiming it her own for the day.

Delamar remained in solid state, only his eyes darting about the room as though in suspicion. The haggard girl ahead of him released a long sigh. In the blink of an eye, her head snapped back around, causing Abel to drop one of precious skinned fruits. Through the cascading locks of black, a set of murky, enraged orbs stared back with amethyst fury that sought to bore a whole straight through him. In this exchange, more students began to infiltrate the room, wholly ignorant of the private declaration of war.

Abel got a good look at the girl's face then, particularly her swollen right eye and that enormous bruise on her opposite cheek. It seemed the goons from yesterday had their own opinion on rough-housing. And now this brat was gonna leak all that anger onto him, and for what? For staying out of it, oh what a sin that is.

Really, some people just thought they were the center of it all…

The battle would have to wait though; Baptiste the Butcher had just arrived with a cage the size of a tuba clenched beneath his arm. The steel-barred case was slammed onto the counter-top. This did not sit well with whatever it was that called said package home and a series of feral snarls and hisses issued as the box tossed and turned in violent spasms.

"Now, which of you wants to place your hand in first?"

* * *

Break period. Tsukune had a newfound love for break period. Why you ask?

"Tomato juice is still nice, but no where near as good as Tsukune's blood."

Music to the young man's ears, though the kind that in a normal setting would set of the neighbors and have the cops down his throat in minutes. But Tsukune had come to accept certain truths; his new friend was a vampire, she liked to suck his blood, and so long as she would spend time with him he was more than willing to provide. Thinking about that made Tsukune realize just how desperate he sounded, so he tended not to and simply lost himself in the bliss of an hour outside with Moka.

And could there have been more fabulous a spot? The building, drawn into three sections, two parallel, one short at the front, made for this brilliant courtyard at the center. Whoever did the gardening here was a true master of nature, blending colors into a rainbow of petals and setting to the land as though giving orders to an armed regiment, orderly and without question. They themselves had found shelter from the modest sun beneath a menagerie of vines and turquoise buds yet to burst into bloom.

This place was Paradise, no other realm could be deserving of such a name.

And in accordance with this notion, a snake lay hidden amongst the foliage.

* * *

Abel all but dashed from his class. Some of it was certainly to avoid the fate of the first three participants in the Butcher's mad comedy of sadism, but another much more covert force played some part in his flight. Why couldn't he get those eyes out of his head?

"Hey, hey you man."

The contemplating young man was awoken by the intrusion, searching out the source of his broken train of thought. He recognized the blue-haired kid from yesterday, looking all the world like he'd taken some mutated starfish and plopped it upon his scalp. As it stood, Abel'd rather not think on whether or not this was his natural color.

The kid sat, feet flat against his rear, chin resting on his knees. His black sleeves wrapped around both legs, keeping him rolled up in whatever tight little ball he fancied. He sent the curious Abel a friendly smile before dropping from his perch, almost shaking loose the ancient gargoyle.

"Yo, you doing anything right now?"

"Does listening to you count as anything?"

The boy just laughed, genuinely amused though laced with something odd. Abel couldn't pin it though.

"Come on then, I wanna show you something brotha."

They weren't brothers, not even "bro's", and he really should have told the little trout that much. But this was unique, something new, something to explore. So he'd indulge this guy a bit, see what came of it.

"Lead on Obi Wan."

* * *

The colors were a blast, like a hundred fireworks set off at exactly the same time in precisely the same place. Whoever did the gardening here… well, you know. The crimson-haired teen marveled at the sight none the less, why the hell hadn't he checked this place out himself before? Looked like he had a new haunt to steal away to.

They walked out through two rows of pillars, set on either side, holding up the wedged awning above. The occasional potted tree or marble bust broke up the monotony of sequential columns running down the yard, so the place didn't look too much like a rip off of The Matrix. Then again, Abel's vibrant mind did see some potential in having a mass gunfight in such a space; imagine all the exploding busts!

Abel's guide ducked behind the nearest foundation, dragging his escortee along behind him. He mimed a shush and pointed out past the red-head's sizable mane. Following his arm, Abel caught the first segments of the opening act.

"Moka Akashiya," came the airy voice, completely incompatible with its speaker. A wall of a body advanced on the two familiar faces, Abel's passing acquaintance from the bus and his fuchsia-capped lady friend. The newcomer radiated male confidence, an animalistic mix of lust and testosterone. He brushed a palm through his greased brown curls, accentuating the silver stud jutting from his lower lip.

"Komiya Saizou is my name, from your class remember?"

The girl, Moka, seemed receptive if a little apprehensive of the whole situation. Tsukune, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to piss his pants at the sight of this guy. His paranoia prove well-placed when he was suddenly snatched from the ground, kicking and writhing, within Saizou's iron grip.

Abel watched his pseudo-friend struggle, futile an effort as it was. Tsukune was weak, Saizou was strong; at that moment this was the ultimate truth. He'd need a rescuer; Abel opted to make himself more comfortable, shrugging the chaffing strap of his green duffel from his shoulder. Just behind him, the teal-haired kid also crouched into better position. As far as shows went, they had the best seats in the house.

"Tell me then, why is a beauty like you involved with a guy as pathetic as this?"

The distressed damsel shuddered at the misplaced attempt at flirtation, far too concerned with her much more distressed friend to receive any words of compliment from the split-lip thug. Noticing the distraction, Komiya elected to cut out the third party altogether, casual chucking his victim over his shoulder. Tsukune came to a painful halt, slammed into a vending machine some fifteen feet away, following a series of shattering twists and tumbles.

Nervous little Akashiya darted forth, making to rush her fallen friend. Saizou cut off her escape, looming over her frightened form. Abel watched with rapt attention, comparing the scene with something clear out of the Discovery Channel; the hungry predator poised upon his prey, soon to lay claim to the fresh kill. Ironically, Saizou seemed to have developed a habit of ritualistically licking his lips at that moment.

"How about it then, your place or mine?"

The line held every promise of ill-intent, delivered in such a way to seem more like an order than a request. The girl, Moka, was visibly disgusted at the display, something that again went largely beyond Saizou's list of concerns. So occupied was the man with basking in his own supremacy at that moment, he failed to notice the girl's slow orbit about his form, placing herself between the hood and the groaning train-wreck formerly known as Tsukune Aono.

"Sorry, I'm with Tsukune right now," she shot, her words mirrored by her swift flight from beneath the brute's shadow. Tsukune was just collecting himself when a pink blur raced past, grabbing him along the way. Saizou paid no heed to their escape, not bothering to go after them. They truly didn't know who they were dealing with; this man always got what he wanted.

The show over, Abel turned to find a new outlet for his boredom, hopefully something that would distract him from the odd hole that seemed to have formed in his gut. Strange sensation, it made him think of that girl from his class, the one with burning amethysts that accused him of such atrocity; the hell was he feeling upset for?

"So, you keep a lot of stuff in this sack of yours," drifted the casual inquiry. Apparently, Abel's escort had long lost interest in the dramatic display and was instead busying himself with rifling through the discarded duffel. That did not sit well with Mr. Delamar, not well at all.

"Did I give you permission to glean my shit?"

That same friendly smile lit up his features, though to Abel it seemed much more mocking than before. Had he been that way the entire time? The question put the flower-head on edge. Abel's obvious apprehension only proved to further please this newfound stranger now discharged of his friendly mask. He showed no sign of heeding Abel's blatant threat, still at work reaching deeper into the sack.

"I don't like repeating myself…"

Though a man of more words than actions, Mr. Delamar did have the curious quality of not wanting to present a pattern. To an outsider, the swiftly swung fist to the crouched kid's face was an act of utter randomness, like walking through a grassy field only to have a live mine launch itself from the ground in front of you. To the still grinning kid the punch was aimed at, it was more like he'd gotten the memo for this sudden "guest" two nights in advance.

It was an easy evasion, lazy even. The swift dodge sent Abel sprawling and open to the force of his own duffel being swung into his ribs. Abel dropped like a deflated blimp, folding into the ground beneath him. His former escort let loose a good-natured laugh, the sort you'd reserve for a pleasant parting with good friends. He even offered a merry little wave as he strode off, duffel in hand.

This was all beyond Abel's grasp who was then too preoccupied with the practice of eating dirt to notice anything else. And to think this had started as such a promising day.


	4. Wavelength

_{Surprisingly not dead. Chapter five finished, be up sometime later on.}_

He was mad. At the same time, he was all too… blank. Some sordid blend of red and grey; mahogany or some other lesser known color. Abel, at this point, was no better than the streak of mud burned across his once-pressed white shirt. Dammit, he liked this shirt, now he was more annoyed.

An awkward sight awaited this most vexed individual just outside the boy's dorm; a figure pacing back and forth like some wind-up soldier armed with dual briefcases. Eh, stranger toys were in production. Abel walked up on the nervous wreck of a being only to spy a familiarly familiar face. Really, why was this surprising him anymore, Abel Delamar and Tsukune Aono crossed more often than a chain link fence.

Rather than add that to his list of grievances, the red head embraced circumstance. After all, with the state of anxiety the kid was in, Abel may have just found the one person on campus worse off than he was. Nothing to make one feel better than to watch another doing worse; that's what Abel told himself in his head at least.

"What's your boggle then?"

Aono just managed to avoid tripping over himself at Abel's "shockingly sudden appearance." His presence seemed to perplex the jittery kid, enough that he stopped that incessant pacing. Mr. Delamar found himself just as confused, wondering why he'd elected to speak out rather than sit back and enjoy Tsukune's marathon of stewing in his own stress-pool.

The synapses finally found time to fire; Tsukune realized he'd been asked a question. He answered accordingly, "What?"

"Problem, issue, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Awkward pause, no more than twenty seconds at max. Enough time for Tsukune to come back to earth. He set aside his luggage, plopping his rear onto one of the over-stuffed cases. Abel flashed through the myriad of possibilities explaining just how his estranged comrade had gotten that much swag over the course of one day, rapidly losing interest in the endeavor.

Thankfully, Tsukune broke that train of thought, "I'm not cut out for this sort of place."

His dedicated listener leaned in, hunching his shoulders, asking him to press on.

"I… I think I want to go to a human school."

Though stable on the outside, that really threw Abel for a loop. A human school? What, did he get off on abuse or something? No, if that were true the earlier dealings with that meat-head of a student would have had a degree more "color" to it. Talk about mind boggling.

"Really," he came with a scoff, "you sure about that then?"

Aono gave him that odd smile, the kind that hides some forbidden knowledge, an inside joke. "Yeah," he returned, not quite so sure of himself anymore, "I think I'll be better off there."

For all his claims of apathy, Abel offered his peer a grin. The clasped hand on Tsukune's shoulder would have furthered the brotherly-effect if not for the fact that Abel only used it to prop himself to a stand.

"Well , good luck."

Tsukune stared after his marked-up classmate, not sure what to make of his half-advice and nonchalance. He wouldn't have long to think on it, the next player had already appeared. He caught her shock of pink hair from the corner of his eye, her body stiff and unmoving. The youthful Akashiya now had a very dead look about her, one that reflected wholly in her hollow voice.

"Tsukune… why would you want to punish yourself in a place like that?"

In that moment, the boy's world seemed to shrink in around him.

* * *

Moroha Kubo was the alpha male; the provider, the hunter, the leader of the pack. He liked this position of his quite a bit, having loyal underlings had its conveniences after all. More than simple hierarchy though, what Moroha truly reveled in was the feeling that accompanied such prestige. He was the elite, the flaunted ace of the group; sure, he was small-time now, but this power of his would grow in infamy. Moroha Kubo would see to that.

"_Geez-us_ dudes, what's with this sack? Fricken bottomless man!"

Moroha bit back his annoyance with amusement, smiling peacefully at his oh-so articulate colleague. Said kid was currently rifling through the abducted green duffle bag, leaning in all the way to his shoulders. Every moment or so, something else would be flung carelessly from the mouth of the sack. Floss, a water bottle, painkillers, a water bottle, comb, toothbrush, a water bottle, an empty water bottle…

A third figure in the room sat idly by atop a pile of rubble, twirling a ring of keys around his pointer finger. He tipped his gaze up, freeing his face from the shade of his _Fatal Fury_ baseball cap, settling his sights on the boss. "Magic, ain't it Moroha?"

The teal-haired leader nodded, his smile stretching slightly, "Right you are 'Terry', this kind of enchantment isn't all that uncommon. Makes for the bigger score when we steal it, ya know?"

The jingling of the swinging keys ceased instantly, snatched within their holder's grasp. The kid in the baseball cap dropped his head, shaking it in veiled rage.

"My name's not 'Terry', asshat," he spat just above a whisper.

Moroha couldn't help but let loose a good laugh at that. Really, what did the kid expect people to do when he paraded around as the "False-Wolf"? Sheesh, he'd even torn his undershirt in the right places; sometimes his little lackeys simply proved an ample source of entertainment. And how happy he was at the sight of his mook, quiet and submissive; the status quo wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

"Whoa, I got a big one here!"

Attention was again diverted to their recon man, now drawing something of considerable weight from the stolen duffle. His boxy features strained with effort, veins running up his forehead and receding behind his blue wool hat. "Beanie-boy's" wrists crested over the mouth of the sack, hauling up what could only be described as a black sphere. The object had no other defining feature.

Once clear of the opening, the snow-capped kid's strength instantly burned out, the black ball smacking into the weathered earth with a solid _THUD_. Moroha quirked an eyebrow at the sight as "Terry Bogard" swung off his perch to inspect his downed associate. The teal-topped leader's mind was working a mile a minute, dashing through shelf after shelf of memory; there was something about that thing they'd yanked out that was sending off a dozen warning lights in his head.

"Hey," came the oh-so caring call of the false Terry, complimented by a swift kick to the side of his prone friend's torso, "whazza matter, you just pinch in another hemorrhoid?"

Snow-cap politely responded through his fit of labored breaths with a flipped bird and a fresh wad of spit. "Terry," showcasing his extensive kingly fighter skills, caught the latter crotch-on. The two were soon consumed in a comically toonish struggle cloud which failed to attain both the humor and the acknowledgement of Moroha, still wrapped up in his own head.

Now would be a prime opportunity for an exit…

The esteemed leader of the three-man band snapped to attention moments later, mouth and eyes drawn wide in sudden shock. Moroha's view panned methodically over to the rounded crater, gazing at the modest hole for a full minute. Over and over again, the message repeated in his mind, "_Something should be there, something should be there, something should be there!_"

He jumped to his feet, immediately halting the rolling scuffle of his cohorts. In a flash, the soles of his hi-top sneakers were all their sight permitted as he crouched above them, driving each of their faces into the dirt. With a fury barely contained, Moroha seethed out, "Where the _hell_ is the sphere?"

"You know, I've never been in a situation quite as stupid as this one."

The speaker's voice was foreign, made more so by the minute detail of it coming from clear across the other side of the decrepit warehouse. The figure stood a silhouette against the faint glow of the moon, his head oddly reminiscent of a preschool-drawn sun.

"Well enough, I do hate repeating myself…"

* * *

So back again she went, idly kicking the same small stone that served as her only companion since leaving the academy grounds. The dead forest was an eerie sight to most but its relative silence made it a welcome venue to the little vampire. Salted trails ran along each cheek, the long dry paths of shed tears and drained emotion.

She was a fool. For so long she had wanted a person beside her, someone she could truly and faithfully call her friend. Tsukune Aono was that person, the first who heard her "wild" claims of magics and monsters and didn't immediately dismiss them as some freakish bid for attention. He accepted her beyond her strangeness, beyond even her title as the most supreme of all monsters; she was simply Moka Akashiya and that was all she ever wanted.

The irony of it, that her own prejudice towards those "hateful" humans would shatter her first honest friendship. It was disgusting, a fact that she would never allow herself to forget. There was some hope, she could still hurry and perhaps catch Tsukune; he was only human and lugging around those briefcases wouldn't help him any in eluding her should she pursue. Moka wouldn't have it, she didn't deserve forgiveness from him.

In a moment of brief anger, she struck fully, with all her strength, the front of her brown shoe digging a nice trench through the dirt path before launching her tiny pebble into orbit. Good, even a rock was too much company for her to keep. This was her way, she deserved as much; deserved to be alone.

"Well, Moka Akashiya, fancy seeing you so far from school grounds."

But it seemed her day was not through being as rotten as possible.

She could offer only a shaken breath and choked response to the wall of muscle from whence the slime-coated statement came. "S-Saizou…"


	5. Amplitude

_{Last chapter for a while, enjoy.}_

It really couldn't help itself that the situation ended up as hilarious as it had. It didn't even try to conceal its mirth, its laughter a fine mist of wheezing cackles that permeated the silent warehouse. Tears threatened to spill from its screwed up orb and the grin stretched across its face seemed set to rip its form clear in half. And did it give even half a shit about all this? Not in the least.

This jubilant display drew the upmost attention of the three thieves. Perched atop the stranger's left shoulder, balanced quite intricately upon a sextuple of angled stick appendages, was the black orb from earlier. A massive, emerald eye dominated nearly two-thirds of its forward mass; the remainder was occupied by a row of pointed teeth, carved into a smile that would shame the Cheshire Cat into submission.

Noticing the sudden attention, still locked within a fit of laughter, the spider-like creature promptly rewarded its viewing audience by blowing them the sloppiest raspberry of all time. The false Terry grit his entire body in fury. Moroha, likewise, in a rare moment of true frustration, seethed through his teeth.

"Shikigami," he rasped. The stick-legged orb bounced jauntily atop its master's frame, laughter back in full force and spittle dripping everywhere. If its master was at all perturbed, his still form certainly didn't show it.

The snow-capped kid beat a fist into his open palm as though stumbling upon some divine epiphany. "Wait a minute," he began with far more enthusiasm than should be reasonable, "Now I get it! You used that thing to _spy_ on us!"

If it had a face, the room itself would have turned to join in the sequence of blank stares thrown towards the snow-capped kid. The intruder actually scoffed at the guy's stupidity whilst his Shikigami tipped forward and collapsed onto the floor below, howling with joy. The crimson-haired teen regarded the other two, the Terry impersonator with his face flush full within the confines of his right hand and dipped into a stance of indignation.

Moroha, despite the dissonance created by his cohort, stood shockingly focused on the intruder. Hatred seemed to flow off him in waves, tsunamis of content all inevitably pointed in the stranger's direction. Moroha Kubo was not one to be made a fool of.

This was going to get annoying.

"Came all the way out to the middle of nowhere to find you people," the tired voice drifted, its source stepping out from the shadows, "Took me an hour to get here through all that crap. Sun's set, forest's cold, and I'm not in the mood to play teacher to a bunch of morons."

Snow-cap drooped out of his prideful stance into one of solemn confusion, gazing stupidly around the barren warehouse.

Now in full view, his crimson petals illuminated a faded violet, Abel concluded, "So I'll be taking back my stash now."

The false Terry moved forward, "Wha-"

"What makes you think we'll just hand this over to you? Principle? Guilt? You think the fact that you caught us makes any difference?"

Moroha gestured towards his comrades upon ending his speech, effectively forcing the Terry impersonator back in line and into silence. They were the muscle, he was the brains; the status quo was absolute.

"I wasn't asking you a question. I was predicting the future."

The howls of laughter had long faded away, as had the presence of the petal-head's familiar. It knew better than to get involved now, no place for a scout on the battlefield. From the girders overhead, it watched along with the three fools, tracking Abel's steady, forward movement. Kid was walking pissed…

"One more step and-"

But Abel had never stopped walking and showed no sign of hearing the threat. Moroha's eyes looked ready to burst clear out of his skull, fists clenched hard enough to bite skin and crush hope. "Terry" turned his cap backwards and cracked his knuckles; Snow-cap just continued looking like a damn idiot.

That's when the "Lone Wolf" exploded, "Piece of shit, don't think you're superior to me!"

He broke full out towards the marching flower. Behind him, "Beanie-boy," finally getting the message to be angry with this newcomer, came in as support. They were on their target in seconds.

* * *

Tsukune Aono was an idealist. One who dreams of the fantastic but has no muscle with which to back up his ambition. His weakness was his curse, it's what lead one who could've been an aspiring individual into the cesspool of mediocrity that robbed him of his typical high school experience. Even now, with this second opportunity, his old defects reared their heads with a vengeance. How could he hope to accomplish anything with a spirit and body so weak as this in a place so governed by strength?

Sense wise, going back had been a horrible mistake. But in his heart, Aono could feel something growing that he'd long since thought abandoned him. Despite his torn skin and shattered body, the undeniable proof that he was getting the crap kicked out of him by this inhuman juggernaut, there was confidence building there. And it felt good… boy did it feel good.

Certainly didn't displace the feeling of a massive uppercut to the stomach. The frail boy was launched skyward courtesy the muscle-bound colossus, formerly the somewhat less muscle-bound thug, known as Komiya Saizou. What comes up must come down and down Tsukune came, spinning end over end. It was by sheer fortune and instinct that not only had the sailing human landed on all fours but compensated enough for his landing not to snap a joint or two.

But Saizou didn't know that and his once joyous mood, eager at the chance for random violence with a side order of rough sex, instantly took a turn for the worse. The walking muscle with a maw was fricken _pumped!_

"Oh, ho, ho! You got some fight in you yet!" This was all too exciting to Saizou who again went back on that odd habit of sensually licking his lips, an act which caused young Aono's pupils to pull back into the white of his eyes.

"_What sort of monster are you supposed to be?"_

"_Me? I-I'm a… vampire, or something."_

The thought of his earlier "talk" with this pathetic fool before him was the final straw for Komiya Saizou.

"Let's see it then, _little_ _vampire!_"

The brute closed the several meters distance as though it were a single step. Tsukune, in an uncharacteristic feat of strength, threw the weight of his torso from his palms and swung an awkward hundred-eighty degrees into a humorous crab-walk stance. The tree trunk of an arm rammed into the earth, positioned precariously between the boy's legs, robbed him the comedy of the situation.

"Come on! Hurry! Aren't you gonna fight back you little fru-"

"_Ask a silly question"_ as the saying goes. Tsukune's eyes, if not at their pinnacle display of shock already, were well into the danger of normal human capabilities at the fantastic display of strength. Somewhere in the background of the struggle, Moka, who had spent the entirety of the event since her dismal knight's arrival dangling from her wrists, clenched in Saizou's thick palm, had reclaimed knowledge that her lower body was, in reality, quite free and ready for use. The size seven pair of soles now buried into the face of her captor served adequately in the negotiations of her release, Saizou was far too concerned in clutching his nose and futilely yanking his submerged fist from the ground to do much retaining.

But just for good measure…

"Run Tsukune!"

Not like there were any alternate options for the human what with the way she'd tossed him over her back. Somehow, the young man's earlier confidence grew steadily more insignificant.

* * *

He could only stare openly, mind rapidly replaying events of mere moments prior. The second spray had actually forced Moroha back a step, face now speckled with moist earth to complement his widened eyes.

Mr. Delamar had actually taken the time to cease his march and instead run a trio of digits through his shortened mane. It honestly annoyed him to no end to have to re-style the damn thing every time this happened but the prickling sensation of cropped hair upon his palms was oddly… sensational. He only wished he could share this momentary bliss with both hands; he'd really have to be more conservative in the future.

The abrupt round of giggles, despite their hushed nature, felt to Moroha like a thin pin being jabbed into his person. He stumbled, nearly intercepting the path of the airborne plastic cylinder with the back of his cranium, and found his right leg ankle deep in an oddly placed pool of fresh mud. The peculiar surface upon which his foot found purchase issued a pained groan at the additional weight; Moroha quickly retracted his foot from the partially submerged gut of his snow-capped accomplice.

A call of, "Dammit," reclaimed the stunned teen's attention. The somewhat full bottle of water smacked uselessly against Abel's chest before falling to the ground, the red-maned fool unable to catch properly. Doing things left-handed was certainly a chore.

More muted chuckles broke out from behind though Moroha was only able to catch the barest glance of spider-like limbs retreating into the darkness, the laughter retreating along with it. Sitting quiet idle in place of the humored Shikigami was Abel's wide-mouthed duffle.

Moroha's sight caught the plastic sheen of the tossed object as it passed beneath the dirtied stream of moonlight, allowing him to snap back in time to avoid a head-on collision. It clattered to the floor, light and hollow.

"Dodge _this!_"

Abel's sobered opponent swiftly obliged, leaping clear the high-pressure jet stream of ruby liquid erupting from the freshly re-grown wrist of his right arm.


End file.
